


Close Enough to Lose

by rose_willow



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt Juno Steel, Hurt/Comfort, I just want them to be happy, Mutual Pining, Other, Spoilers for Season 2, brief descriptions of injuries, hurt Peter Nureyev, i wrote this instead of doing homework, part of a hurt/comfort list i saw on tumblr, please let them be happy, then i edited it instead of sleeping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-11-26 14:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_willow/pseuds/rose_willow
Summary: One shots of hurt/comfort for a Master Thief and a Private Eye.Little moments where Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev realize that they don't want to lose each other again.





	1. Desperate Hand-Holding

**Author's Note:**

> Based upon a hurt/comfort list I saw on tumblr (https://healingsteel.tumblr.com/post/187625302622/good-types-of-tropes-for-hc). If I can find time, I'll try and post more.  
I may have taken some liberties with this first chapter as far as the prompt went. Hope you enjoy!

“Don’t you dare let go!” 

The platform beneath him shuddered and groaned, threatening to send them both plummeting down into the inky abyss. 

“If I don’t let go, we could both die!” 

“Well, that’s too bad, because I’m not letting go! Not again!”

“Let go of me.”

“I won’t.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“Juno-.”

“Shut up, Peter.”

His eyes, normally so bright but now dark with dread, went wide, caught unaware by Juno’s use of his first name. 

Juno was laid on his stomach, arms reaching over the side of a shuddering platform, holding onto Nureyev’s wrist with a grip so crushing that the thief was sure to have bruises, if not a fracture. Tears were dripping from his eyes and falling past Nureyev as he looked over the edge. 

“Just . . . Shut up. I made a mistake I don’t intend to repeat. I left you - I let you go. I’m not doing that again. I’m not letting go.”

Nureyev looked up at him, at this beautiful lady that had stolen his heart, and saw the determination. They’d spoken since Juno had joined the crew, but they hadn’t _ talked. _ Nureyev was beginning to regret every moment that he hadn’t used to tell Juno that he’d missed him, that, while Juno had hurt him, he still loved him. Staring up in those tear filled eyes, he was afraid that he would never get to. 

But things had changed. 

A few seconds ago, letting go would have saved Juno’s life. Now, he had to find another way. Because if there was one regret that Peter Nureyev refused to have, it was failing to save Juno Steel.

He nodded up at the detective and flashed him a smile. “Okay, Juno. Don’t let me go, okay? I’ll find a way to get us out of this.”

_ Assess your surroundings, Peter, _he said to himself, collecting his thoughts and focusing on his task. 

They were both hanging off the edge of a platform bolted precariously to the side of a mountain. Normal situation: mission gone wrong, they’d had to make a hasty retreat. Who would’ve thought that the side of the hill of the mansion they’d tried to hit was so prone to mudslides. They were both caked in mud; Juno was too far over the side of the platform to do anything except hold on to Nureyev who would’ve been dead already if not for the detective’s fast hands. 

_ If I try to climb up him, we’ll both go over the side. If he tries to pull me up, we’ll both go over the side. If -. _His thoughts were interrupted by an ominous creaking. Juno glanced over his shoulder, eye going wide before he looked back at Nureyev. 

“We’re out of time, Nureyev. The last bolt is -.”

“Don’t let go of me, okay?”

“I don’t think that really matters at this point. I think we’re both going to the same place.”

“That’s good. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Just don’t. Let. Go. Of. Me.” He gave Juno another smile that he hoped was comforting as the sound of metal tearing ripped through the air and the platform heaved forwards. 

At the last second before the platform was fully free falling, Nureyev pulled Juno over his shoulder and against his back, smiling when he felt strong arms wrap around his torso, and swung his legs towards the cliffside. That’s when he pulled out his knives. They were strong and beautiful and Nureyev regretted what he was about to do to them as he plunged them into the side of the mountain. They sliced through dirt and in between rocks and shuddered in his grip. He was thankful for the leather gloves as the knives threatened to dance through his fingers, but he could feel his detective pushing his face into Nureyev’s back to avoid the falling debris from the platform and he would be damned if something like a shaking knife threw them to their deaths. 

Nevertheless, the gloves couldn’t save the sides of his palms as rocks dug through the leather and bit into the skin. He felt something sharp jab his side as they slammed against the rock face. His forehead hit the cliffside, throwing stars into his vision and threatening his grip, again, but he held on. 

Within seconds of coming to a stop, his arms were shaking and his chest was heaving. Something was dripping into his eye, obscuring his vision, and his sleeves felt damp. “Juno!” Nureyev called frantically, trying to look over his shoulder. “Juno? Are you still there? Oh gods, please say something.”

“I’m,” a voice croaked over his shoulder, “I-I’m still here.”

Nureyev gasped in relief. “Good. That’s good. Just . . . Stay with me, okay? Don’t let go.”

“I really wanna say something about how I’m not letting go, but, honestly, we’re just _ really high _.” Juno pressed his forehead into Nureyev’s back, feeling the shaking in Nureyev’s muscles. It was just another detail that reminded him how desperate their situation really was. “What’s the next step?”

“Well,” Nureyev began, trying to shake whatever was dripping down his face out of his eye and failing. “I hadn’t really gotten that far. I’m open to ideas.”

“Umm, we could . . . Maybe if we . . .” Juno glanced back down and his vision spiraled into the darkness. Feeling more dizzy than before, he hid his face again. His words came out muffled as he said, “Nope. I’ve got nothing. Sorry. Ask me again when we can see the ground.”

Nureyev smirked despite the seriousness of the situation. “That’s kind of the problem, dear detective. I don’t think we want to see the ground at this exact moment. It’s implications may be less than preferable.” He experimentally tried to lift himself on his knife hilt before giving up. 

“Woah! What are you doing?! I’d really prefer not to fall!” 

“You’re confidence in me is inspiring, but I can’t hold on forever. And we can’t climb this mountain. That leaves -.”

“Comms!” Juno yelled. “We can use our . . . I can’t reach my comms. Can you reach your comms? Nevermind, don’t answer that.”

Nureyev rested his forehead against the cliff and closed his eyes. Everything would get clearer if the world would _ stop spinning. _“Climb me.”

There was a pause before Juno cleared his throat and attempted, “What?” It came out the second try. 

“_ Climb _ me. If you can get high enough, you can wrap your legs around my waist, hold on with one arm and then reach your comms or mine with the other.”

“Oh. Gotcha. Of course. Umm. Are you sure you can hold on?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“I guess not.” Juno started to move, before halting just long enough to mutter an apology and resuming his movement. 

Nureyev felt one hand experimentally reach up towards his shoulder before grasping a chunk of fabric and pulling. He was glad that the clothes they were wearing for the caper were well made, as cheap stitching would not have held up as Juno began to climb him. Once he’d pulled himself high enough, a hand grasped Nureyev’s shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and Juno hoisted himself the rest of the way. Legs wrapped around Nureyev’s waist and Juno’s other arm coiled around his chest. 

In this position, Nureyev could feel the thudding of Juno’s heart through is spine and the way he was gasping for breath. His grip tightened on his knives as he fought down some of the burn in his arms. There was a lot of burning. “Juno? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Nureyev couldn’t tell if Juno was answering him or speaking to himself. “Comms. I - comms.”

One hand slowly unwound from around Nureyev. A few seconds later, there was the familiar beeping of a comm. 

“Rita? Rita, goddammit, answer me.”

_ “That’s not a very polite way to call, boss. We talked about this, you gotta-.” _

“Thank god, Rita. Track this signal and get here ASAP.”

Whether it was his words or the urgentness in his voice, Rita answered, _ “Tracking your comms now. We’ll - wait what are you doing there?” _

“Rita!” 

_ “Alright alright, we’re on our way. Just hold tight, okay?” _

“You have no idea, Rita.” Juno left the comms open so that Rita could continue to track them. 

“You really should be kinder to our prospective savior, Juno.”

Juno sighed. “You’re right. I’ll apologize later. I’m just . . . a little stressed right now.”

“Which is understandable, dear detective.” Nureyev’s fingers were going numb, his grip on his knives wavering. He couldn’t hold on much longer. _ No need to tell him that. No need to make him worry. _That, and the world hadn’t stopped spinning. 

Silence spanned between them before Juno said, “Nureyev . . . In case she doesn’t get here in time-.”

“Save your breath, detective. She’ll get here. I have faith in Rita.”

“But if she doesn’t-.”

“Juno.”

It was the tenderness in Nureyev’s voice that silenced Juno’s; the way that the word wasn’t necessarily said but sung. Juno couldn’t see Nureyev’s face. It was pressed up against the rock. 

“Please, Juno. Trust me when I say that she’ll get here.”

Juno nodded before realizing that Nureyev couldn’t see him. Tightening his grip on the man, he clung to him as Nureyev clung to his daggers. “I trust you.”

Nureyev smiled, eyes closed against the spinning world. He knew that if his heart wasn’t already threatening to leap out of his chest with exertion and adrenaline, it would be with Juno’s words . . . Or with Juno’s arms. But those weren’t thoughts to have when they were hanging off the side of a cliff. They were thoughts to have after. He pushed away the voice in his mind that taunted, _ Or maybe never again _ and focused on the fact that Juno trusted him and he wasn’t going to let him down. 

Juno’s head swiveled towards the ravine beside them. A rumbling, at first heard only in his inner ear, was growing louder and more intense. He looked fearfully towards the top of the cliff and pressed close to Nureyev’s back as several chunks of rock fell past. 

Nureyev pressed close to the rock face, hoping that Juno would be out of the way of falling debris and that his knives would not be shaken from their holds in the wall. 

On his next glance, Juno gave a grateful sob as their ship came roaring into view. It’s engines angled away as the distance closed between then, slowing its approach and limiting the chance that Nureyev and Juno would be accidentally thrown from the wall by the force of the whirlwind. 

The cargo ramp at the back slowly lowered, revealing a triumphant Rita, posed in a warrior woman position, hands on her hips and head held high. “Rita to the rescue-OHMYGODMISTAHSTEEL!”

“RITA HELP!!” Juno screamed. As careful as the maneuver had been, he could feel Nureyev trembling and he knew they had seconds before he didn’t have to worry about heights anymore. “RITA!!”

“I’M COMING I’M-JET!!”

Jet appeared seconds later with a length of climbing rope wound around his waist and trailing across the deck behind him. He lifted a comm in his hand and spoke into it, the words lost to Juno in the swirling exhaust of the engines. Slowly, the ship came closer, the end of the ramp where Jet was now poised nearing the cliff face. Jet spoke into the comm again and the ship seemed to almost rock in place. There was only about five feet between the end of the ramp and Juno. 

“Juno,” Jet yelled, although in his same, calm voice. “You must push away from the wall and jump to me. If you do not, you both will surely fall and die.”

“Oh, thanks for the reminder!” Juno’s arms unconsciously tightened around Nureyev. “What about N-.” _ I almost forgot. _“What about Zinnia?!” 

“Once you are on the deck, I will retrieve Altair. You must jump now.”

Juno was torn. He didn’t want to stay in the air anymore. His arms and legs were beginning to ache and shake from clinging to Nureyev, which was his second problem. He didn’t want to leave Nureyev hanging from the side of a mountain. He didn’t want to let go.

“Juno . . .”

Nureyev’s voice drifted to him so quietly that he almost didn’t heart it. 

“Nureyev?” He whispered back.

“Go. I’ll be fine. I’ll be right behind you.”

Juno looked back over his shoulder where Jet was waiting. Preparing himself, he answered, “Don’t disappear.”

“Never.”

Giving Nureyev one final squeeze, he ignored the expanse between that hung beneath the five-foot space between him and Jet and pushed off from the wall with his feet, launching himself in Jet’s direction. Jet snatched him out of midair and swung him towards the deck. Remarkably, Juno landed on his feet. 

“Zinnia. You have to get Zinnia,” Juno gasped, looking back towards the wall. Several things happened at once. 

Nureyev fell.

“NUREYEV!”

Juno jumped.

“Juno.” 

Jet lunged.

“MISTAH STEEL!”

And so did Rita. 

Juno’s hands locked around Nureyev’s wrist in another bone crushing grip. Two hands wrapped around his ankle and they jerked to a stop. 

“I’ve got you,” Juno gasped. Nureyev wasn’t looking at him. Instead, his head was hanging down and he was looking into the darkness beneath them. “N-Zinnia.” He looked up at Juno out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve got you.” 

“I will now pull you both back up,” Jet announced from above them. 

“DON’T WORRY, BOSS. OLE RITA’S GOT YA,” Rita yelled from above Jet. 

Slowly, they were pulled onto the ramp of the ship after which they were ushered inside so they could make their escape before the authorities showed up. 

Juno was still catching his breath, bent over his knees, chest heaving. Nureyev was across from him, leaning against the Ruby 7. 

“What happened . . . to holding on,” Juno wheezed. 

“My apologies, detective . . . I underestimated . . . the strain,” Nureyev answered. His shoulders were shaking. 

Juno noticed. “Zinnia?”

Something dark was dripping down the side of the Ruby 7, marring the green paint, before landing in a puddle on the ground. As Juno took a step forward, he could see the red nature of it. _ Blood. Oh no . . . _ “Zinnia, are you okay?”

Nureyev turned towards him and Juno got his first good look at him. There was blood flowing down the side of his face and over one eye. More blood on his sleeves and Juno could see ragged tears in his gloves. The final piece was the large spot of blood on his hip, letting more of the red liquid to seep down the side of his pant leg and pool by his heel. 

Nureyev’s eyes, looking suspiciously glassy and unfocused, locked on Juno’s arms. “Juno. You’re arms.”

Juno followed Nureyev’s gaze as he closed the space between them and grasped Juno’s wrists. Sure enough, the sides of his arms, where he’d been exposed to the rock face, were scraped and torn. He didn’t feel the pain until he saw the wounds. Still, the amount of blood he’d lost compared to Nureyev was fractional. 

“We need to get Vespa! She’ll be able to fix you up!” Nureyev started to try to pull him in the direction of the main compartments of the ship. 

“Zinnia, stop. You need to sit down.” He wanted to grab Nureyev’s shoulders, move him to the wall of the ship, not let go until he knew Nureyev was going to be okay. But the thief was looking at him with a vacant stare.

“What?”

“You’re hurt. Do you not feel that?”

Juno could feel Jet and Rita shifting behind him, watching the interaction. He didn’t care what they saw, what it may imply. He cared about the man in front of him, dripping blood all over the deck, shaking like a leaf, and still worrying about him. 

As if he had just realized it too, Nureyev winced and looked down at his hip. Gingerly reaching a hand to the wound, he touched the edge of it with the tip of his finger, wincing again before pulling the appendage up so he could analyze the liquid on his fingers. 

Looking back up at Juno, swaying like he was drunk, he slurred, “It appears I have accrued some sort of . . .” The sentence trailed off into nothingness as his eyes rolled back in his head. His legs gave out like they were powered by hydraulics, slowly sending him towards the deck. 

Juno was there in an instant, arms wrapping around his torso again. Ignoring the burn in his muscles, he lowered them both to the floor, Nureyev safely ensconced in his arms, head pillowed on his shoulder. The thief was completely boneless and lighter than the last time Juno had held him. He hoped to have the opportunity to make up for any part he had to play in that detail. But despite the blood and sweat, there was still that _ cologne _ , that scent that Juno had come to affiliate specifically with Peter Nureyev. It made tears spring to his eyes with the recognition of how much he’d missed it - how much he’d missed _ him _. 

“I will inform Vespa that her skills are required,” Jet said, moving past them towards the cockpit. 

“Please,” Juno pleaded, eyes never leaving Nureyev’s face. 

Nureyev was pale in the harsh lighting of the ship. His breaths were shallow and labored and Juno could feel Nureyev’s heart hammering from the earlier exertion. He couldn’t help but hold him like he was made of glass, afraid of causing anymore damage. _ How much have I already caused? _

Jet’s steps echoed across the deck plates as Juno pulled the thief close, lips pressing against Nureyev’s forehead as he whispered a string of “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let go. I’ve got you.”

“Mistah Steel.”

Juno’s eyes shot up at the quiet, almost mouse-like nature of Rita’s voice. “He’s gonna be okay, Rita,” he croaked. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Rita nodded from where she was huddled down in front of them. She smiled reassuringly. “Of course he will be, boss.” She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, gripping him as he held on.

* * *

It was the most inconveniently designed bed for a med bay. Ever. 

That was Nureyev’s first thought after waking up. The ceiling above him was only about 2 feet away. It was, in actuality, the top of a bed cut into the wall. While it was comfortable and dark, because of the covered nature, it made treating a patient in it or getting in and out of it a hassle. _ I’ll have to be careful when I sit up or I’ll knock myself out on the ceiling. _

“Nureyev?”

At the sound of Juno’s voice, Nureyev turned his head to look over the side. _ Too fast. _ The room spun around him, forcing him to clench his eyes and teeth against the wave of vertigo and nausea. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“Don’t . . . Don’t worry. A Master Thief is never surprised,” Nureyev quipped, smiling against the pain as he pried his eyes back open. “Are you alright?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“I asked first.”

“You almost died.”

“I think you’re being a little overdramatic, dear detective. After all, **we **almost died.”

“That’s,” Juno pinched the bridge of his nose and Nureyev grinned. “That’s not the point, Nureyev.” 

The grin dropped as Nureyev glanced around the med bay.

“We’re alone,” Juno supplied at his silent search.

“Never can be too careful. Especially with how your secretary enjoys the vents.”

“Stop changing the subject.”

Nureyev rolled his head on the pillow, looking up at the low ceiling. “I get the feeling you’re upset with me, Juno.”

Silence filled the med bay, prompting him to look back at the detective. His eyes went wide. Even without his glasses, he could see the glittering tears falling from Juno’s clenched eyes onto his hands. They were wrapped tightly, but delicately, around a pair of broken glasses - Peter’s broken glasses. The frames were cracked at the corner, causing a spider web of fissures to spread across the lens.

Juno didn’t know what had prompted the tears. Maybe it was the sound of Nureyev’s voice; the way it was slurred and laced with pain. Maybe it was the stress finally hitting; from ignoring Jet’s offer and the muscle strain and carrying Nureyev’s limp body through the ship as he dripped blood across the grated floor. From the waiting. He’d waited for so long. He’d sat outside the med bay, leaning up against the wall, waiting for the news that Nureyev was still alive.

Or maybe it was the way that Nureyev had said his voice just then. So domestically, like it rolled off his tongue every day. Juno hadn’t known if he was ever going to hear Nureyev say his name again. After being reunited, he’d felt hope that he would, only for that hope to be shaken when he’d seen Nureyev bleeding out on the deck. 

A hand weakly cupped his cheek and his tear was thumbed away. When he looked back up, Nureyev was leaning, precariously, out of the bed, arm outstretched to reach his face. Juno reached up and gently ran his fingers over the back of his hand, tracing the edge of the splint around his wrist. 

He let the hand pull him forward, knowing that he could fight it if he wanted (which he didn’t), and climbed into the small bed beside Nureyev. It took some jostling and several winces on the thief’s end, but, eventually, his back was pressed to the wall and Juno’s was turned to the door. They laid, inches apart, fingers tangled between them, simply existing in the same space. 

“Nureyev . . . I messed up. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t’ve-.”

“Shh, Juno. We’ll have time for that later,” he soothed, blinking lazily as he smiled. “And it’s a conversation I most certainly want to have, but I feel like I have very few minutes of consciousness left and I feel it would be rude to pass out on such an important topic.”

Juno chuckled and grinned, relaxing into the mattress. “Okay. I’ll practice it until then.”

“I look forward to it.” Nureyev yawned, his eyelids slowly drooping. Juno could see him fighting the pull as he said, “I do, however, have one question for you. What happened to my knives?”

Juno reached out with his unoccupied hand and pulled the blanket back up to Nureyev’s shoulder. “Still in the side of that cliff.” He grinned at the image of someone stumbling upon them someday and wondering how two knives made it to the center of a rock face.

“Shame.”

The smile dropped from Juno’s lips. “Were they important to you?”

Nureyev shook his head against the pillow, his words fading as he answered, “No . . . They were just . . . pretty.”

A small grin came back to Juno’s face as he watched his thief drop back into sleep. 

Vespa had said that the injuries, while severe, would heal. With time, he’d recover from the puncture wound in his hip and the concussion from hitting the cliff. There was a little bit of muscle strain and he pulled the trapezius muscle in his shoulder, but those would heal too with work. In the end, they would both recover. 

Juno kissed Nureyev’s fingers and snuggled down on top of the blanket next to him. 

* * *

Several weeks later, Nureyev found a package in his room. A finely crafted wooden box with a note on top. In messy handwriting was simply written,_ To Z. From J. _Nureyev squinted at the Z. It was written strangely. He smirked and turned the note sideways. It wasn’t really a Z; more of a sideways written N.

He opened the box and the smirk turned into a sentimental smile. 

Nestled in velvet in the center of the box sat two knives, carefully crafted with beautiful red hilts. The blades were the most stunning feature though, intricately carved with intertwining dahlias and roses. 


	2. Night Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno's past comes knocking in the form of a nightmare.

It was dark. Too dark. Unnaturally dark. And this was coming from a lady who had been locked in a Martian tomb for awhile. This - this was a different kind of darkness. It was sticky and seemed to cling to him, dripping off his arms when they moved. Not that he could see his arms. But he could feel it. He could _ feel _the darkness, pressing in like a slime. It felt almost like humidity, but the air was cold. If he could see, he would be sure that he would be able to see his breath. 

“H-hello? Is anyone here?”

He could hear someone walking; even footsteps, heading in his direction. He reached for his blaster and pulled it from its holster. The plasma cartridges hummed, silently sending a faint vibration through his hand. It was comforting and sickening. 

“I can hear you out there. I’m armed. State your business.”

The footsteps stopped about 10 feet away, from what Juno could tell. 

“Juno?”

Juno breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his blaster. For some reason, he didn’t holster it. “Thank god. Nureyev. What are you doing here? Where are we?”

“I’m not sure, detective,” Nureyev answered. The footsteps began again, more cautious, and Juno reached out. Eventually, their hands met in the darkness and they moved into the same space, huddled in the cold. 

“Do you remember how we got here?” Juno asked. He could feel Nureyev’s arms around him, anchoring him in the darkness. It was a welcome feeling. 

“I’m afraid I’m as lost as you are on that detail.”

“That’s a lot of help.” _ If only it wasn’t so dark. Wait! _A thought struck Juno: Nureyev smoked. Which meant that he would have a light on him. “Nureyev, you got a light? Maybe we can see where we are, at least.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” 

Juno smirked. “Did you lose it? With pockets as full as yours, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“No, I got rid of it.” 

“ . . . Why? Why would you do that?”

“I stopped smoking.”

_ What’s wrong with me? _Every muscle in Juno’s body was tense, ready to fight or flee. He had yet to put away his blaster and the space between him and Nureyev felt more threatening than comforting now. “I mean - that’s good, but . . . since when? I didn’t know you were trying.”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Nureyev absentmindedly stated. One of his arms had disappeared from around Juno. “I just . . . suddenly didn’t feel the need to smoke anymore.”

Every alarm in Juno was ringing. _ This is wrong this is wrong this is wrong-. _

“Smoking is dangerous, detective.”

His hand had been slowly creeping up Nureyev’s arm while he spoke, inching higher and higher until he was able to circle around the back of Nureyev’s neck. His fingers skimmed the smooth skin and he ignored the bolts of electricity that, even in a moment as dire as this, the contact created. Finally, he found what he had dreaded he would. 

On the back of Nureyev’s neck, buried in the skin, was a small chip - a THEIA Soul. 

Juno pushed him away, shoving him hard in the chest, hard enough that he heard Nureyev give a small, “OOF”. 

“Juno?”

“Stay the hell away from me!” 

“Juno, what’s gotten into you?”

“I should be asking you that. How . . . How did this happen? . . . How did I let this happen? I thought they were all gone.”

“Juno, dear -.”

“Nureyev,” there were tears in Juno’s eyes. “If you can hear me, I’m going to find a way to help you. Jet knows someone who can help you. It’s going to be okay.” 

There was a pause and, suddenly, the lights were on. Juno couldn’t see from where the light was coming or why it had suddenly turned on, but he could see Nureyev, now, standing a few feet in front of him, looking calm - almost serene - and holding a waiting THEIA Soul in his hand. 

He took a step forward. “It’s going to be okay, Juno.”

Juno took a step back. “Stay away from me.”

Another step forward. “Everything will be fine, soon.”

Another step back. “Nureyev, please -.”

A step forward. “We’re going to help you.” Nureyev’s voice wasn’t alone anymore. _ It _was there, too. 

A step back. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Juno’s hand was between them, holding a blaster.

Step forward. “Shh shh. There’ll be no more hurting, Juno.” Nureyev’s hand was between them, holding out the THEIA Soul.

Step back. “Please.” The blaster was pointed at Nureyev’s heart.

“Give up control to the THEIA Soul.” 

Nureyev shot forward. Normally, he was deadly fast. Now, he was nothing but lethal. He was a blur. His hand grabbed Juno’s wrist and twisted it around until the blaster was pointed at the floor. Then, his ankle took out Juno’s knee, sending him backwards into the ground. His other hand held the THEIA Soul, moving it closer to Juno. 

Juno wrestled him, bringing him down to the ground with him, holding the THEIA Soul at bay. Nureyev would win this fight. His strength, nothing to scoff at on a normal day, was enhanced as was his speed. This would be over soon. Which meant that Juno had to end it even sooner. 

He planted his feet on Nureyev’s stomach and kicked, sending him away. It was seconds before Nureyev was upon him again, but that was just the amount of time that Juno needed to reaim. 

Blaster shots ripped through the air. Silence took over. 

Nureyev was nose to nose with him. The THEIA Soul was jammed into the concrete by Juno’s neck, the thin wires seeming to try and stretch to grab him. 

Weakly, Nureyev pushed it away before collapsing completely against Juno’s chest. Juno shot up, moving so that he was inadvertently cradling Peter in his arms. The thief had gone pale, his eyes fluttering in a vain attempt to stay open. He wasn’t breathing. He smiled up at Juno, one last toothy grin, before his eyes slipped closed and he became a dead weight in the detective’s arms. 

“Nureyev?” Juno jostled him slightly. He was beginning to hyperventilate with the way that Nureyev bounced like a rag doll. “Nureyev!?” He jostled him again and was awarded the same result. Nureyev’s head bounced limply against his stomach. 

He tried to calm his racing heart and ease his rapid breathing. He’d seen this before in Mick. THEIA would restart his heart. That’s what it did. He just had to wait. And wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

“ . . . Peter?”

* * *

“PETER!?”

It was dark again, but he could see light coming from various devices of Rita’s scattered across the floor. And he could see Rita in the light of those devices, dozing in the palm of her hand, curled around a pillow, drooling. 

Juno climbed out of bed, sock clad feet thudding against the metal plating, and tiptoed clumsily over to her. Adrenaline was spiking his system, making his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. He got close enough to lean around her and see her bare neck under her blanket wrapped shoulders before he bolted for the door. It reacted too slowly and he squeezed out of it as soon as the space was big enough. 

He ran down the hallway of the ship and nearly tripped as he jolted to a stop outside of another door. He jammed his finger into the bell and heard a faint buzzing within. After waiting 0.2 seconds, he hit the button again. And again.

The door began to slide open. 

“Do you have any idea-.” Nureyev was interrupted as Juno reached out and curled his fingers around the sides of his neck, winding them around to feel Nureyev’s spine. He remained quiet as Juno probed the area, using touch alone to comfort himself. 

After taking a few seconds to thoroughly search the area, roaming across the pale skin, Juno breathed a sigh of relief and let some of the adrenaline leech out of his system. “Thank god, I-.” He looked up at Nureyev. 

The man was bent forwards, at the will of Juno’s fingers. His eyes were wide and uncomprehending, without the shield of his glasses, and his hands were dangling by his sides, occasionally reaching up for a second like they didn’t know what they should be doing before falling limply back by his hips. “Umm, Juno?” Nureyev began, his neck still cocooned by Juno’s hands. “Are you alright?”

Juno abruptly let go of his neck and pulled back, taking a few steps until his back hit the wall behind him. He blushed and looked towards the floor, his mind catching up with what he’d done in his panic. “I’m - It was - Sorry for waking you.” He turned to go, shaking his head and cursing under his breath. He didn’t expect a warm, gentle hand to seize his elbow. 

Nureyev could see that something was deeply troubling Juno. He could see the dark bags under the detective’s eyes and the tear tracks down his face that maybe he wasn’t even aware of. Nureyev felt the shaking in Juno’s hands as they had coiled around his neck. The lady’s touch had been feather light but thorough. Those were the hands that Nureyev had seen wrapped around a blaster or curled up to punch; the same hands that had held him so tenderly. The same hands that were making his skin tingle even now.

So, when Juno muttered an apology and turned away, Nureyev shot forward to grab him. It wasn’t hard. It took minimal strength to convince Juno to stay through a touch. _ Oh, how he’s changed. _

“I,” Nureyev cleared his throat and pulled Juno back towards his end of the hallway. He let go before reaching inside his doorway. “I’ve been saving this for the right moment. But this is as good a moment as any. Also, if I may say so, you look like you could use it.”

Juno watched as Nureyev held up a bottle of wine. It looked _ old _ , maybe old enough to be from Earth. His eyes were wide and honest, a question in his smile that had nothing to do with joining him for drinks. He knew he probably shouldn’t, that that wine may have come from Buddy’s private stash and that they would probably get yelled at if they drank it, but Nureyev was also standing in front of him, alive and unharmed and so _ Peter Nureyev _ and Juno didn’t feel like saying goodbye for the night. So he nodded and Nureyev smiled. 

“Excellent! We’ll stop by the kitchen to grab some glasses - this is not a wine that you drink out of the bottle, detective,” he mock reproached at Juno’s look, “and then I know the perfect spot for some late night drinking and talking.” 

2 hours later

Nureyev drained the last of his third glass. “I’d heard rumors, but . . . I had no idea that things had gotten that serious.”

Juno finished refilling his glass (he couldn’t remember what number he was on) and nodded. “Yep. O’Flaherty had a vision for Hyperion and he almost succeeded. He probably would have if not for Rita. She saved me and the whole city.” He handed the bottle back to the thief. It was a very good wine, but that only reassured him that Buddy would be yelling at them later. 

“She is rather resourceful, isn’t she?” Nureyev pondered, refilling his own glass. 

Juno chuckled. “That’s one word for her.”

They were seated up in the nose of the ship in a spot where the deck beneath them was solid and warm with electronics and spinning machinery, fighting away the chill of the open void around them. There was a paned window made of thick, treated glass that kept them safe but afforded them a view of the stars. 

In the middle of space, there were so many. Juno had never seen so many until they’d started moving around. Each and every one of them was like a gemstone, some like diamonds as they sparkled white, but others had different hues, like rubies or sapphires. 

Nureyev had been right. It was just the spot for late night (even though it was technically always night in space) drinking and talking. 

They lapsed into silence for a few seconds before Nureyev asked, “So, tonight . . . Was it about those . . .?”

“THEIA Souls,” Juno supplied, absentmindedly looking down into the dark maroon liquid in his glass and swirling it.

“Yes, those THEIA Souls. Was that what it was about?” Nureyev didn’t need to specify what “it” was. They both knew the other well enough to know, even if this was the first time they’d really talked for longer than 30 minutes alone in over a year, that they had their own demons that they wrestled on the nights when their only company was the ghosts in their memories.

Juno nodded. “In a way.”

Nureyev nodded and waited, patiently sipping his wine. 

“I’m done hurting the people I care about,” Juno said, still gazing down into his wine glass. “But I’m scared that I’ll mess up again. That I haven’t changed; that inside is the same old Juno Steel, private dick. I’m just . . . tired.” He could feel Nureyev’s eyes on him, but he pushed forward. “But I want to do better. No. I want to be better to the people I love.” He realized the slip of his tongue and his eyes shot up, locking with Nureyev’s. The thief was smiling gently at him.

“That’s the proof right there that you are not the same old Juno Steel. You’re still that lady in all the ways that matter, but the old Juno Steel would not have run away with a group of space pirates, now would he?” 

Juno took a deep breath and allowed a smile to form at Nureyev’s words. “No, he wouldn’t have.”

“And it will take time to realize that fully. It’s - It’s just something that has to work it’s way down into the core of your being. But I . . .” Nureyev trailed off and mirrored Juno’s earlier position of looking down into his glass. “I hope that I am there when it does. To see it.” He drained the last of his glass, suddenly, and shot to his feet. “I don’t know if there is anything left in that bottle, detective, but you are welcome to it. And I will bid you goodnight.” He turned to leave, giving Juno half a second to call out. 

“Nureyev?” 

Nureyev stopped and looked over his shoulder, juggling the empty wine glass in his fingers. Half his face, hidden in shadow, was unreadable. The other half was carefully controlled, but Juno would swear that he saw a hint of that boyish fear masked as bravado that he’d seen in Nureyev’s memories, that he’d seen when they’d been picked up by Miasma, that he’d seen when they fought her. 

Juno smiled as warmly and openly as he possibly could, and then he said, “I hope you’re there to see it, too. That makes two of us.” 

Nureyev turned back around, crossed the deck to where Juno was still sitting, and bent over to kiss him on the forehead, hesitating in the contact as his hand creeped out to wrap under Juno’s jaw. 

Juno closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of Nureyev’s lips on his skin and swearing to never _ ever _take it for granted again. He was going to do better by the people he loved.

* * *

Juno kept the wine bottle. He stored it safely in a drawer, wrapped in a tattered blazer that he hadn’t bought himself and had really only worn once. 

A week later, when they’d taken off from a planet after a successful heist, the bottle mysteriously made its way up onto Juno’s dresser, accented with two genetically enhanced roses that, instead of withering and dying, changed colors. Rita, of course, asked him where they’d come from and, when Juno could only grin and say “someone special”, she’d squealed him and hugged him so tightly that he was sure his ribs would crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. NEED. JUPETER. FOREHEAD KISSES.  
I wrote this mainly just for myself, but figured I may as well post it in case someone else enjoyed it.  
Every once in awhile, we just need some good, ole' fashioned FLUFF.  
Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more???

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post this in honor of the pledge drive!! Who's pumped up for Season 3!!! I can't wait!!  
Thanks for reading!


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